everybody's in love with a fairytale (even though it hurts)
by gustin puckerman
Summary: There's so much more they've yet to go through. ― Bucky/Natasha. On-going collection of written-out prompts and one-shots I've gotten from Tumblr.
1. anonymous

**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to their rightful owner(s).  
**Note**: This is an on-going collection of drabbles and/or one-shots from prompts I've received on Tumblr (under the name of _puckering-gustin_). Please take note that this _has_ been posted on my Tumblr and on AO3 as well. All one-shots or/and drabbles are **not** necessarily connected unless stated otherwise. Thank you.  
**Warning(s)**: Triggers, Implanted/False Memories, Torture, Murders.  
**Timeline**: Set after _Captain America: The Winter Soldier_, when (or if) Steve finds Bucky.

* * *

**Posted on**: June 8th 2014  
**anonymous asked**: "You're not really a morning person are you?"

* * *

"You're really not a morning person, are you?"

Natasha asked through gritted teeth as she gasped for air, her neck strangled under the weight of his fingertips, later on his palm, while he shifted his wrist and pinned her body in place, her throat caught painfully (;sharply, professionally) in his vice grip, his eyes slanted over the way her jaw clenched, her own eyes reddening.

He lets go of her, gasping, panic setting in.

_Steve_.

Bucky swallowed a lump in his throat, his whole vision's failing on him, until he shut his eyes and remembered the breathing exercise Dr. Banner had him do whenever he was triggered. _One, two_. Bucky opened his eyes, took a firm step behind and refocused his gaze, though still a bit hazily, directly on her. _She's not a target_, he reminded himself. She's Steve's friend.

And he's not the Winter Soldier.

"I―I'm sorry." He croaked out hoarsely through a raw throat, felt the ache of the sore as he swallowed, dropping his gaze at _anything_ but at her. There was just something, he thought. Something he couldn't quite figured out about this young woman right in front of him, not since he set his eyes on her figure three nights ago, when she first came into the Tower and Steve had informed him that she's not the enemy, therefore there will be no reason for him to be afraid of her. Or, in another word, _attacked_ her.

Bucky licked his drying lips, sniffling, and heard as she said: "That's okay. You don't mean it, I'm sure."

"You shouldn't be here," he told her with a gruff. No one should. Not even Steve. Not yet, anyway. Bucky's just not ready for that.

"I'm Natasha," she said instead, her voice soft yet clear.

_Natasha_, the name echoed in Bucky's head and his stomach twisted. Bucky dared himself to finally lift his chin up, his chest rising and falling back into an increasing speed, his mind reeling badly as his eyes settled back on her ― bright eyes, chapped lips, freshly-bruised throat and long, silky, red hair cascading beautifully down her back, reflecting against the sunlight which was streaming down through the window as the sun began to beam from the outside. And she said, slowly, cautiously, "James, do you remember me?"

Bucky clenched his fist.


	2. cityscapeinviews

**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to their rightful owner(s).  
**Note**: This is an on-going collection of drabbles and/or one-shots from prompts I've received on Tumblr (under the name of _puckering-gustin_). Please take note that this _has_ been posted on my Tumblr and on AO3 as well. All one-shots or/and drabbles are **not** necessarily connected unless stated otherwise. Thank you.  
**Warning(s)**: Triggers, Implanted/False Memories, Torture, Murders.  
**Timeline**: Set after _Captain America: The Winter Soldier_, when (or if) Steve finds Bucky.

* * *

**Posted on**: June 9th 2014  
**cityscapeinview asked**: "Cleanliness is next to godliness." [feat. _Darcy Lewis_, just cause.]

* * *

"Cleanliness is next to godliness."

"Are you talking about Thor?" Darcy piped in from the space a few feet for them on the couch and both Bucky and Natasha passed their attention to her, who, in return, looked too preoccupied with the television rather than the fact Natasha was openly straddling the former, still-recovering Winter Soldier. "And seriously you guys, I know for a _fact_ you guys will make like, one hell of a porn movie with how hot you two are, and I can seriously vouch for that, but I'm not really in the mood for any kind of exhibitionism."

Neither older party respond to that and let her be as Bucky slanted his thumb over Natasha's thigh down to her knee, flicking it, then putting a pressure. The Black Widow stared down at him, returning her full attention to the man she was straddling, and briefly, brought her eyes down to his lips.

"_Natalia_," he warned, voice raspy and low.

"It's Natasha," she reminded, not breaking her gaze on his face, noticing the slight bruise aching along his cheekbones, one she once touched a long time ago.

He might have snorted, Natasha wasn't sure, smirking slightly in that lazy way of his which ticked her off that this man was a man who held multiple personalities, from who he was, who he had become and who he was trying to be ― and was not the same assassin who held her throat when he kissed her, who put a bullet through her flesh just to complete a mission, who gave her everything and nothing at all back when he'd put just enough love and trust into her ― and right now, Natasha wasn't sure who he was.

"And it's _Bucky_, doll." He drawled, his eyes sharpened.

Natasha resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but she did shove him, "Sam wants you to pick up your trash, James. I suggest you get down to it."

She's on her feet by then, when she'd heard him chuckling; as she turned around, James smiled, a rare sight, until she realised that this man wasn't completely _the_ James. The one she fell in love with, the one she kissed secrets to at nights when she was sixteen years old. This was also Bucky. Steve's best friend.

"So he sent you?" He asked, "Must be desperate."

"Must be," she responded, a hum. "You're a mess, James."

He laughed, and she thought, _yeah, maybe he was_, but she could adjust to this. She could. James was different, but everybody was, after everything they went through. And she realised this as she picked up his hands, wove their fingers together and memorised the sound of his laughter as it echoed through her ribs.

(And she thought, my _God_, was James beautiful.)


	3. anonymous II & III

**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to their rightful owner(s).  
**Timeline**: Set after _Captain America: The Winter Soldier_, when (or if) Steve finds Bucky.

* * *

**Posted on**: June 10th 2014  
**Anonymous asked**: I'm terrible at thinking of prompts but buckynat fluff would really make my day & "Maybe that's just what I want you to think" winterwidow [feat. Sam, Steve & Maria because I can't help it.]

* * *

"Maybe that's just what I want you to think."

"What? Don't tell me you don't _like_ these puppies." Sam exclaimed, shocked, while trying to maintain all of the pups that were climbing on him from actually swallowing him whole. Not that, now that Natasha's thinking it through, Sam would have minded based on her judgement. She cocked her head to the side as Sam laughed when a pup licked an area under his jaw, "Look at them! How could you _not_ like them?"

Natasha herself was patting one; it kept on shovelling its small head against her palm, while another one came paddling forward, right to her side. One hand reached for that one too, feeling its fur. "They're so soft."

Sam laughed, and a few seconds later Natasha snapped her head when she heard grass rustling from the entrance of the pound, and immediately locked eyes with Steve, who, behind him, Maria Hill and Bucky Barnes followed.

A dog yipped happily at their arrival and Steve smiled in greeting, while Maria hesitated in her steps and James― Bucky ― _whichever_ seemed careful at stepping forward. Natasha leaped to her feet, grabbing one pup in her hand and cradling it carefully, as all three of them approached.

James met her eyes.

"It's a pup," was all Natasha said when she stood right in front of the still-recovering former Winter Soldier, calculatingly observed the decreasing pattern of bruises across his face. He stared back, perplexed, glancing back from the dog to her.

"I―" He began, unsure (just as he always was― about everything, about Steve, about himself, about _her_) while from behind, Natasha heard Maria began sneezing.

"Touch it," she said firmly, yet there's a gentle edge to her tone. Not commanding, not threatening. Just a silent, direct plea, and his bright eyes descended on hers. "It won't bite," she added, then shrugged a shoulder. "_Well_."

James immediately gave her a sharp stare, which quickly dissolved once the pup yipped, catching his attention. Natasha moved to assure it, still presenting it to the man opposite of her, and slowly, James' one hand ― not the metal one ― came and patted its head, down to its body. The pup growled happily, humming perhaps.

"It's _soft_," he said, a whisper under his breath.

Natasha nodded her head, contentment washed over her whole body, something that didn't happen often, while James' fingers continued intently, not breaking to pause. "Do you like it?" She asked, and there's child-like curiosity in her tone, but she'll allow it this time, she decided.

Her eyes met his again, and tried as she might, Natasha _was_ holding her breath. He licked his lips, which should have been _illegal_ for him to do, and breathed out: "Yeah. I do."

Natasha smiled, but only a little. "I like it too."

The pup continued to yip.


End file.
